The Inquisitor's Sister
by SJ Dennis
Summary: Era'Atisha has always been an outcast in clan Lavellan. But now, she may have found someone who understands her. Lavellan/Solas, Lavellan/Josephine ********Contains spoilers.********
1. Chapter 1

The Inquisitor's Sister

Chapter One

The lamp was beginning to burn low in Keeper Istimaethoriel's aravel. The dancing flame cast shadows on the walls of the large wagon. The walls were covered in bookcases filled with thick tomes. Some of the leather bound books had gold gilded elvhen script on the spines. There was a large table in the center of the wagon with even more books strewn across it. Some lay open within easy reach of the lone occupant, others were stacked in various piles.

A smile played across Era'Atisha's lips. The low light meant that the Keeper couldn't get mad if she went to sleep. The mage/templar conflict had forced the clan to forage in new areas, which meant that Atisha now had access to a part of the Fade that she hadn't explored before.

She looked down at the tome she had been reading, and slowly changing. Her nose wrinkled in distaste. It was some lore about Falon'Din, her least favorite deity. She saw things in the Fade that contradicted most of what the Dalish believed, especially about the gods. She spent most of her study time altering small parts of the lore at a time, so that it wouldn't be easily detectable. The only thing that she couldn't change was the information about the vallaslin, the part she wanted to change the most.

Atisha's hand went to her plain brown cheek. It was a strong point of contention between her and the rest of the clan, especially her brother. They viewed her lack of tattoos as an insult. It was the reason she would always be the clan second and never the Keeper.

She balled her hands into fists as she rose from her chair and left the Keeper's aravel. She had endured the torture since she was a child, and would endure it for however long she had to. But it would not do to stew over her treatment by the others in the clan.

For now, she was eager to enter the Fade and find escape with the wolf pack. She hurried to her own aravel, avoiding the common area at the center of the camp.

A couple of the hunters spotted her.

Atisha knew the sour looks. Her chest tightened and a lump formed in her throat. They had had a little too much to drink and were looking to cause trouble. She would have to lock and ward her wagon tonight. Not wanting to get caught in the open, and worried that there were other drunk hunters about, Atisha picked up her pace.

Once she was in the wagon, she locked the door and took a moment to look around, making sure no one had left her any surprises. She had one of the smaller wagons, since she lived alone. Her bed was to the back, the fore being occupied mostly by shelves filled with her journals and a few items she had found in elvhen ruins. Two chests held the rest of her possessions. The larger one had a few everyday outfits, a formal robe carefully wrapped in paper, a set of leather armor. The smaller one held her pens, ink, and blank journals.

It only took her a few minutes to rummage through everything. Satisfied that nothing had been tampered with, Atisha raised the wards. Then, she stripped down and pulled on a simple shift. She slipped beneath the covers and quickly fell asleep.

She entered the Fade in her wolf form and immediately joined the pack. The scent of a deer spirit, a buck, was thick in the air. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth. She could taste its fear, and it set her heart pounding. The breeze blowing through her gray fur was exhilarating, and a wolfish grin spread across her face. She always felt more alive in the Fade.

The pack flowed through the forest, twenty-three deadly hunters. She heard all of them in her mind, synching perfectly as they thrilled in the chase. Alpha was at the head of the pack, leading the charge, with Atisha close behind.

She asked him to move away from the Dalish camp. Their dreams were already pulling at her, trying to bring her in. She did not feel like dealing with Dalish problems tonight. They could rot for all she cared.

Alpha was only too happy to comply. Part of the pack broke off. Some of them moved to the right and others to the left, herding the buck away from the aravels of dreamers. After a few minutes, they were in the open Fade.

Atisha was finally able to let go of her worries from the waking world. She immersed herself fully in the hunt and let the wolf part of her take control.

It was intoxicating.

She howled as she ran, giving voice to her exhilaration. The rest of the pack copied her call, their howls echoing across the Fade. Atisha felt other spirits tremble at the sound.

The wolves that had broken off continued to herd the buck, guiding it toward a hilly area. The hills grew taller until they were mountains. They entered a ravine and the pack fanned out so that the buck had no choice but to keep moving forward.

Finally, they came to a cliff face. The buck had no choice but to turn and fight. It lowered its head and brought its antlers to bare.

The pack surrounded it and began to circle. Alpha was the first to strike, nipping at its hindquarters to test its speed. The buck turned, driving forward with its antlers down. Alpha dodged them as another wolf spirit came at the buck from the opposite side. The buck was not quick enough to meet the attack. The second spirit sunk its fangs into the buck's flank. The buck reared up and bellowed in pain.

Its head was thrown back, leaving the neck exposed. Atisha lept toward the buck, going in for the kill. She could almost taste the flesh beneath her fangs as she flew through the air. Her heart was pounding so loud that she couldn't hear anything else. Time seemed to slow as she relished the moment just before the kill.

The buck's fear was at its peak. It knew that its end was near.

Something pulled her. The ravine disappeared, as did the buck and the pack. Atisha was no longer in her wolf form. She barely had time to bring herself into a tumble, grunting as she hit the ground. She rolled for a bit to soften the blow. When she finally stopped, she allowed herself to lay sprawled as she got her bearings.

The area around her was unfamiliar. There were crumbling pillars covered in vines and the walls were decorated with stucco murals. There was no ceiling for most of the structure, letting moonlight shine into the space. She was laying in thick, soft grass and there were a few trees growing in the space.

She groaned as she realized that she had been pulled into a dream. She had been so close to bringing down the buck. The wolf part of her growled in frustration. It felt like it had been cheated out of a kill, and she couldn't blame it.

She had been certain that there hadn't been anyone nearby. The crumbling architecture was definitely elvhen. Perhaps there was a ruin that she had not yet found in her wanderings? If she could reach it in the Fade, that meant that it was close in the waking world.

Atisha took note of her surroundings so she could begin searching for the ruin in the morning. For now, she had to find the dreamer and figure out what need was so great that it had pulled her from the hunt.

She rose to her feet, dusting herself off. There was something off about this dream, but she wasn't sure what it was.

The dreamer was close. Maybe seeing what he dreamt would answer her question.

She set off through the ruin, moving cautiously to remain undetected. She could sense spirits up ahead, several of them. Her brow creased in confusion. It was unusual to find a single spirit in a dream. The number that she sensed... it shouldn't have been possible.

It was almost like when she viewed a memory, but that wasn't possible. In all of her years, she had never seen a dreamer view memories. They couldn't.

Perhaps it wasn't a dream, but a domain. A few demons had tried to trick her before. Their set up hadn't been this elaborate, though, and they hadn't been able to pull her in. She had entered willingly out of curiosity.

Atisha rounded a corner, and gasped at the sight that greeted her. Her hand flew to her mouth.

A single elvhen man was sitting in a stone chair, watching as spirits relived the memory of a court dance that had happened in these ruins.

Her gaze fixed on the man as she slowly stepped into the room. He had a long nose set in an angular face with high cheekbones and a dimpled chin. Intense, narrow gray eyes were fixed on the scene playing out before him, a soft smile playing across his lips. Long brown locks cascaded down his back, some from the front pulled back by a leather thong. He wore a simple tunic and breeches, though they seemed to be made of rich fabrics, and a pelt was slung over one shoulder and tied at the opposite hip. He looked like he was in his early forties.

There was something familiar about him, but she could not place him. Perhaps she had met him when he was younger? That had happened a couple of times before.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she approached him, her unblinking gaze unable to look anywhere else. Both of her hands were now at her mouth to hide the gaping hole that it had become. Here was another who could view the Fade like her, and yet not like her. He still needed the dream. Did that mean that he had to sleep to enter?

She was walking through the memory, but didn't notice.

The man did, sitting up straight. His eyes widened as she came closer. She didn't realize that she had been moving until she stopped in front of him, her hands finally falling away from her face.

They stared at each other for several moments.

Atisha tried to speak, but couldn't get any sounds past the lump in her throat. The man appeared to be in the same position, his mouth hanging slightly open.

Her lips began to quiver and she could feel tears swelling in her eyes.

His aura read as elvhen, though he was hiding most of it. Demons had tried to hide their auras from her, but their base nature was always visible. She could try to see past the masking, but it was poor etiquette.

He was really an elf, watching memories in the Fade.

"I thought I was the only one," she finally whispered, a sob escaping with her words. Her hand flew back to her mouth, as though that could stop her from bursting into tears. None in the clan, not even her brother, knew what Atisha could do.

The man rose from his chair and slowly approached. He circled her cautiously, examining her.

She turned her head to follow him, afraid that he would disappear for good if he left her sight.

"As had I," the man finally replied. He stopped in front of her, bending at the waist with a hand at his chest. "I am Solas."

She continued to stare for a moment, still in shock, then realized that he was waiting for her name.

"I'm Atisha."

There was a long silence, but no awkwardness or tension. They both took in the presence of the other, trying to understand it. He had no vallaslin. At his age, that probably meant that he wasn't Dalish. There was no Circle Tower nearby, and they would have made him Tranquil if they knew what he did when he slept. He must have been an apostate, then.

"Are you alone, in the waking world?" he finally asked.

Atisha shook her head. "I travel with my clan."

One of his eyebrows pricked up. "Oh? You have no tattoos."

Atisha shifted uncomfortably. She finally looked away as she replied defensively, "Not all Dalish have them."

"Curious," he responded, perking up. "That's not the impression I've gotten."

"It is part of becoming an adult among the clans, but they must be taken on by choice and are not required."

"And you chose against having them?" His head tilted to one side, as though she were some puzzle to be unraveled. "I don't think I've encountered that among the Dalish before."

She shifted uncomfortably, again, as she gave her excuse. "Why bear marks to honor gods that don't answer?"

It was not the real reason, but seemed to be the most acceptable one among elves.

He smiled, bemused. "That's an odd sentiment for a Dalish."

"I'm not like most Dalish," she answered.

"No, I suppose you aren't." His brows creased and he gazed at her with a strange look in his eyes.

Atisha did her best not to shift any more under that stare. She felt as though he could see through her, see past the mask to what she really was. Spirits, she hoped he wasn't trying. Being a Fade Walker was bad enough, but even the Dalish feared what she really was.

"Do you enter dreams often?" he finally asked, still looking at her oddly.

Atisha shook her head. "Not usually. But, this one was different than most, and I was curious."

It wasn't a complete lie, but he didn't need to know the full truth, at least not until she knew more about him.

She looked him over, trying to decide what need had brought her into his dream. On the outside, he seemed just fine. Indeed, he had been enjoying himself before she had so rudely interrupted. She could have gazed into the strings of the Fade to discover her answer, but was wary about revealing too much about herself to this stranger.

Solas smiled, but there was pain in his eyes. "Then it is fortuitous that you happened into this area. Please, join me. We are missing a fascinating memory."

He sounded excited at the prospect of sharing a memory with her. So there was something Atisha could do for him.

She looked behind her.

The spirits had continued to relive the memory as the two mages sized each other up. They must have missed out on a great deal, because somehow a duel between five people had started.

Solas held out his hand to Atisha.

She looked down at the outstretched hand with smooth palm and long fingers. It was such a simple gesture, but it had been so long since someone had offered it. Slowly, she raised her arm, placing her hand in his.

His fingers closed around her hand and he gently led her to the stone seat, which now had a matching one next to it.

Atisha raised an eyebrow at the additional seat. So, he had full control of his environment in the dream. Interesting. It was also interesting that he would give her an idea of what he was capable of in the Fade. Maybe he was offering an olive branch?

He helped her into the new chair before taking his seat. From there, they watched the spectacle unfold. It ended in the death of two of the courtiers, two others going to find a private space, and the fifth one staggering over to a servant, requesting several jugs of wine be brought up so he could drown his shame.

Atisha smiled as the spirits moved away. It had been an interesting memory. She should have payed more attention to it. She had watched numerous memories over her lifetime, but this was the first time she had someone else to enjoy them with. She couldn't help casting sidelong glances at Solas. She still couldn't shake the feeling that she knew him somehow.

"You seemed rather distracted," Solas commented, the corner of his mouth turned up in a slight smile. "Is there something on my face?"

Atisha blushed, her cheeks turning a deep red. A lump was forming in her throat. She tried to clear it several times, but it took a few moments before she could speak. She had hoped that he hadn't noticed.

"I'm sorry," she sputtered, her cheeks going even darker. She must look like a fool. "It's just that, well, have we met before? I have this nagging feeling that I know you."

His smile spread further as he shook his head and chuckled. "I highly doubt it. I like to think that I would remember someone like you. But I sense something familiar in you, as well."

She didn't think her cheeks could get any darker, but they were certainly getting warmer as she smiled in return. "Well, you're certainly a sweet talker."

He chuckled again. "If you consider the truth sweet talk, then you'll find that I'm probably the most charming person you've ever met."

Atisha giggled, covering her mouth. He had a sense of humor as well. He was literally the man of her dreams.

She stopped as she realized how relaxed she felt. How long had it been since she had been this... happy, content, at peace? Not since she was a child. Even then, she had been guarded in all of her interactions.

The waking world tugged, her body letting her know that morning approached.

She slowly frowned. She didn't want to wake up. She had found someone that she could be herself with. Mostly. He was sweet, but she needed to know more about him.

"And now a frown. Have I offended you so soon?"

Atisha shook her head as she snapped out of her reverie. He sounded disappointed.

"No, I'm sorry. It's just, morning approaches, and I have to go."

She couldn't meet his gaze, now. She felt almost guilty about having to go. It was more than that, though. It was the whispers, the stares, the barely contained contempt. She could already feel all of it starting to weigh her down, again. Her shoulders sagged as she thought of how she would avoid the hunters today.

Solas put a hand on her shoulder, using his other to lift her chin, bringing her eyes up to his. They were moist, like he was holding back tears. But why would he be close to crying?

"I know the burden of living among those who don't understand you. It can be difficult."

He was concerned for her? Dear spirits, how long had it been since someone other than Enasalin had showed interest in her welfare?

Of course, he probably thought that she was still quite young.

She smiled softly as she placed her hand over his.

"I know how difficult it can be," she assured him. "I have ways of coping, and I'm not completely without friends. There's a spirit of Valor not far away. It's a little full of itself, but has led me to some of the more interesting memories in the area."

"You are friends with spirits?" he sounded surprised, though not judgmental. His eyebrows raised as his eyes widened. Then, the smile returned. "Another pleasant surprise. Perhaps we can speak more tonight?"

"I would like that very much."

She could feel her cheeks growing warm again, but did not mind. It was nice to find someone who could make her blush.

"I look forward to tonight, then." He actually sounded like he meant it.

Atisha's smile widened as they nodded their heads to each other. She was looking forward to their next encounter, as well.

Then, she woke up.

Light was streaming in through her window as the sun rose into the sky. She could not wait until it set, again.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Atisha dropped the wards around the wagon. Almost immediately there was a banging on her door. She opened it to find Enasalin standing outside, his muscular arms crossed and his long fingers digging into his dark brown skin.

"Who threatened you?" he demanded as he narrowed his deep yellow eyes and glared at Atisha.

"Good morning to you, too, Ena," Atisha answered dryly, moving aside to let him in. "Can I get you something?"

Enasalin stomped into the wagon and slammed the door behind him. His angular jaw line was rigid. He huffed his way to the bed before sitting down roughly with a growl. The air was suddenly thick and the unrest was palpable. A long silence stretched between them while he glared at a spot outside the window.

"Good morning," Enasalin finally grumbled and turned to look at her. "Now, who said what?"

"No one said anything," Atisha assured her brother as she took a seat next to him, exasperated. "I was walking back from my studies and a couple of hunters looked a little too drunk for comfort; so I decided to be safe."

Enasalin continued to glared at Atisha, his full lips curling up into a snarl on one side. "Which ones?"

"I don't remember. They all start to look the same after a few generations. And it was dark."

"Then I'll just question all of them."

"Drop it, Ena. You'll only make things worse." She stopped trying to be nice about it, letting heat enter her voice. "It's been long enough that they just need another reminder of what I'm capable of."

Enasalin continued to glare, but finally broke his gaze and scowled. He didn't stay sitting, either. He pushed off of the bed and began pacing the small area. "They'll ease up if you just get your vallaslin."

Atisha's jaw clenched and her hands balled into fists around her sheets. She closed her eyes as she focused on her breaths, making each one slow and deliberate.

Enasalin's memory was just as short as the other members of the clan. He had renewed the plea for her to take vallaslin just a month before. It had only been three years since the last time, and five years before that. But it was the same arguments every time. This time, he had tried talking to her at least four times a day. What had changed to make him so vehement about it?

She prepared herself mentally. He would be angry, as usual. "How many times do I have to tell you, I will not mark myself?" Atisha reiterated tersely.

"For fuck's sake, Addie!" Enasalin exploded. "Why are you so stubborn? You should be our Keeper, not Istimaethoriel! You keep talking about all of the changes you would make. Get the vallaslin and you could make them. It won't make the hunters like you, but at least they'll respect you. Now it's like you're spitting in their faces. They're talking about exiling you!"

"They always talk about exiling me," Atisha interrupted. She rose from the bed and slowly moved towards Enasalin. "If it isn't the vallaslin, it's something I've said, or some tale that I've questioned, or I corrected one of the elders. It doesn't matter what I do! They will always find a reason to talk about exiling me. I'm not going to compromise my beliefs to make them happy."

Enasalin's fists clenched at his sides and his entire body shook as his eyes narrowed. "How can you call yourself Dalish? Why do you insist on contradicting everything you were raised to believe?"

The first time they had this conversation, Atisha's heart twinged at the confusion in his eyes. It used to pain her to hurt her brother. But after all this time, he still didn't understand that she wouldn't, couldn't change her mind on this. She wanted to scream at him what the tattoos really meant, to shake him until he understood. He wouldn't be offended if he knew that they were slave brands.

But she didn't say anything. She could never bring herself to break his heart.

He wouldn't believe her, anyway.

"I have seen too much of the truth," Atisha finally whispered as she turned her back to him. Tears burned the corner of her eyes. "How can I not question lies?"

"It makes them hate you. It makes you a target. This generation... their worse than their parents, or their parents, or their parents. I don't know what lengths they'll go to."

He was pleading with her now. It was the last of his arguments. Another week and he would drop the subject entirely.

Atisha smirked and shook her head. "You always say that. I don't think you know what lengths the others have gone to."

Sunlight glinted in her eye. She looked out the window and noticed how high the sun had risen. It must have been an hour since she woke and now she was wasting precious daylight: the ruins could be as far as three days away. Atisha walked to the larger trunk and opened it. She proceeded to pull out a knapsack and pack a couple sets of her clothing.

"Are you leaving the clan, then?" Enasalin's voice was strained.

Atisha sighed heavily and rested her hands on the rim of the trunk. She turned her head enough to look at Enasalin out of the corner of her eye. "No," Atisha assured him. "Not for good. I found a reference to a ruin that might be near by. I'm going to see if I can find it. Even if I don't, at least it'll give the hunters a few days to cool off."

"Or plan."

Another silence stretched between them.

Atisha pulled her supple armor out of the chest and put it on over her shift. The dark green leather cuirass easily slipped over her head. The leaf-shaped pauldrons rested lightly on her shoulders. She had cleaned the armor several times, but there was still a whiff of old sweat and peat moss permanently ingrained into it. The back was decorated with a gold leaf Tree of Life, branches stretching up with matching roots stretching down. The front was unadorned but had dark spots at the hips from the oil in her hands.

She ran her hands down the treated leather, stopping on the smooth spots. Her hands weren't the only ones that had created them. More tears threatened escape as she remembered the other hands resting on her body. She smiled as the memories of her late husband Darlen bubbled to the surface. She shivered as she recalled how those hands would slip down from her hips and sneak under the studded leather strips that created the armor's skirt.

Enasalin growled but helped Atisha by strapping the buckles at the sides. He was rough enough that Atisha snapped out of her revery. When it was done, he put his hands on her shoulders and kissed the back of her head. "I'll do what I can to calm the masses while you're gone," he assured her.

Atisha gripped his hand and turned to look at him. "Thank you, Ena. I'll be back in a few days, a couple of weeks at most."

She pulled inks, pens, and a couple of blank notebooks out of the smaller trunk. Not many clans came to this area, so she would need to take detailed notes on everything she came across.

And then hope that the Dalish didn't misinterpret her notes, she thought sourly.

When Atisha stood and turned around, Enasalin was waiting, holding her staff out to her. "Promise me you'll be careful," he beseeched her.

Atisha grabbed her staff, but Enasalin didn't let go. "I promise, Ena," she finally relented.

He held on for several more seconds as he stared her down. He hated it when she went on expeditions by herself. He reluctantly released the staff and moved toward the door. He opened it for her and waited, the pucker still on his face. Atisha smiled at him as she walked out of the wagon, hoping it would alleviate some of his fear. Instead, his frown deepened and his smooth black eyebrows stitched together.

Atisha tried to push her brother and his nagging out of her mind by focusing on the camp, which was just starting to stir.

Crafter Boranehn and his apprentice Halinan shouted to each other across the commons about the day's work. The scouts had found a source of iron bark only a couple of hours away. Boranehn insisted that Halinan practice making a simple bow, but Halinan argued that he was skilled enough to try something more advanced.

Atisha couldn't hear what he suggested because children screamed gleefully as they chased each other around the aravels. She stopped short as they ran past her. Their shrieks rent the air and drowned out all other sounds. It receded as the adults herded them towards the teaching area.

She didn't have time to wonder what muddied tales they would be told today. The smell of roast rabbit wafted through the air and made her belly grumble. Thinking back, she realized that she had missed supper last night. No wonder the rabbit smelled especially good this morning.

She also knew that she would find the Keeper near the fires. She needed to talk to Istimaethoriel about taking supplies for the journey. The last thing she needed was one of the hunters accusing her of stealing food stores.

As she approached, she could see several rabbits hung over the fire in various stages of cooking. She helped herself to some meat off of a finished one, as well as a bowl of oatmeal with some fruit. With breakfast in hand, she began searching for Keeper Istimaethoriel.

It didn't take long to spot the middle aged woman sitting on a bench in front of her aravel. She was having her own bit of food. She seemed wholly focused on her meal, but Atisha could feel the sharp blue eyes following her. Istimaethoriel was not happy about something, and that something involved Atisha.

Atisha grumbled under her breath as she started towards the Keeper. Whatever it was, she hoped the Keeper wouldn't forbid her from taking some salted meat and dried vegetables. She could travel faster the less she had to forage.

Atisha leaned her staff against the wagon before taking a seat next to Istimaethoriel. It didn't take her long to finish off the meat and start on the oatmeal. She was too hungry to start the conversation, and she had no clue why the Keeper was upset with her.

Istimaethoriel gave her a sidelong look, but did not say anything. She finished her own breakfast before Atisha and set her dishes on the bench. Then she leaned back and closed her eyes.

Atisha took her time eating the oatmeal. She wasn't fond of it, but knew she needed the strength. It was better to get a good meal in before she left.

When she finally finished, she stacked her dishes with Istimaethoriel's. She would take them to be washed in a bit.

"The hunters are growing restless," Istimaethoriel finally commented. There was no emotion to it, just a statement of fact.

Atisha waited for the rest of what the Keeper had to say.

"They want to force the vallaslin on you." Her forehead wrinkled and her brows knitted together. The crows feet around her eyes deepened and her thin lips turned down in a pout. "I remember what happened the last time such talk arose. I've tried to dissuade them, but it hasn't worked: the young never learn from the mistakes of their elders."

Atisha sighed and nodded. She wasn't surprised. In fact, she was relieved.

It had been too long since the last confrontation and the tension in the camp had become almost too much to bear.

"I think that there may be some ruins nearby worth investigating," she began. "I was going to set out today to look for them. It'll take at least a few days, possibly a couple of weeks."

Istimaethoriel remained silent and stared off towards the east. "How many hunters do you need?"

"I plan to go alone. I think it will be better for everyone."

"Something we can agree on," Istimaethoriel sighed. She turned to Atisha and examined her from head to toe. "Leaving won't stop the confrontation they seek, but it may delay it. I'll make sure you have enough supplies to last a week, but that's all we can spare."

"I understand. Thank you, Keeper," Atisha replied.

Istimaethoriel stood up and leaned on her staff. Her dark hair was starting to gray at the temples and more lines were appearing on her forehead. She shook her head and clacked her tongue. "I will try to calm them, even if I agree with them. You question our ways. Your lack of vallaslin..."

"I'm going to stop you right there," Atisha interrupted. She rose from her seat and calmly collected her staff. "Enasalin has been repeating the same lecture multiple times a day for the past month. I don't need to hear it again. I am quite aware of how everyone feels about my plain face, and have been since the first time I refused. I came here to let you know that I was going to be gone for a while so you wouldn't send Netalin searching for me. Now, I'm going to get the supplies that I need and then I will be out of your hair."

Atisha tried to remain calm as she walked towards the smokehouse. Hot tears stung the corner of her eyes; but not because of what the Keeper had said. The span between incidents had been longer than normal.

The younger members of the clan usually tried to do something: force vallaslin on her, force themselves on her, or both. Every time it ended the same way.

She displayed her power, reminded them that she was immortal.

It was something they should remember, but memories faded quickly in this clan. Within fifteen to twenty years, the new generation came of age and the cycle would start over.

Most of them minded the stories of Era'Atisha.

Her face is plain, but she is old. She questions our traditions, but she alone holds the most ancient of knowledge. Do not cross her, for she is more powerful than she seems. The wolves themselves obey her every word.

They feared her to some extent and usually tried to avoid her.

Others took it as a challenge. There was always at least one who thought he could tame her and bring her in line.

She could usually pick them out once they started going on the hunting parties. They would come back with their prizes held high, shouting at the top of their lungs about how brave they were. If she was at the fires, they would try to catch her eye and stare her down.

None had ever succeeded, but it let her know which ones to watch out for.

Next came the snide comments and childish names. Flat ear and Asha'alas were the most common ones. They weren't exactly imaginative.

Then came the threats: whispered warnings as she ate, dead animals left in front of her aravel, and blood smeared on her door. Once she had come back from an expedition to find her wagon ransacked. They had even been kind enough to leave a stool sample on her pillow.

Atisha always ignored them. It had been hard at first; but the years had shown her that it was the best course of action to take.

She had tried confronting them once, before she knew that she would live longer than normal. It had escalated quickly and one of the hunters was severely wounded.

It was the closest the elders had ever come to actually banishing her.

Since then she had let the hunters make the first move. She couldn't be condemned for protecting herself.

But the confrontation usually came before she got this frustrated with them. Leaving camp was as much for her own piece of mind as it was for theirs.

Inside the smokehouse she wrapped portions of dried meat and vegetables and thought about staying away for longer. She wanted to leave entirely, to escape the angry stares and judgmental whispers, but she had made a promise to Asha'belannar.

It wasn't wise to go back on a promise to the Witch of the Wilds.

She clenched her jaw and finished putting the wrapped food in her bag along with all of the utensils she would need.

Preparing for the journey soothed her a little. It meant that she was getting out from under the tension, that she would have some freedom, even if it was only for a few days.

The sense of calm quickly dissipated as she left camp.

Some of the hunters gathered to watch her. They whispered to each other as she passed, their lips curling up in snarls and scowls.

She knew those looks all too well.

Like the generations before them, they were planning how best to tame her. They would probably try it while she was out of camp.

Atisha continued on. She pretended that she hadn't noticed them. Instead, she kept her eyes on the path ahead of her and her steps were strong and sure as she entered the forest, not looking back at the Dalish camp.

She was no fool, though. She was going to have to watch her back.


	3. Chapter 3

TW: sexual assault

Chapter Three

The trees were thick and tall, blocking out most of the sunlight. Atisha could hear a stream bubbling nearby. She moved towards the sound and found a meadow that was about a hundred yards wide. The grass was deep green and tickled her calves. Flowers of various colors dotted the area: dark purple, soft pink, vibrant red, shining yellow, and several others. Sunlight spilled into the area and glinted off the water of the stream, which flowed from a pool at the northern edge of the clearing and cut the meadow in half.

The stream was a welcome sight. In her rush to get away from camp and the glaring hunters, she had forgotten to fill her canteen. It also looked like a good place to gather edible roots, which meant she could hold off on dipping into her dried food stores.

She was hesitant to start digging without someone to watch her back, though. The tension between her and the rest of the clan was too high, and she had been caught unaware once.

Atisha didn't want to remember, but the images came to the fore of her mind anyway. She had gone out to explore a grove in the Emerald Graves with a clearing much like this one. She had been so young, then: only in her mid fifties.

She tried to turn her mind to the memories she had seen there, the Spirit of Valor she had conversed with; but it didn't work.

The nightmare never stopped once it started.

A soft breeze blew through the trees, the red and gold leaves rustling in its wake. A few couldn't hold on any longer and slowly fluttered toward the ground, only to be caught by the wind. They began dancing in the air and drifted away.

The grass was still green, but was growing brittle and gave a satisfying crunch under foot.

Atisha closed her eyes and smiled. She breathed in the cool air and picked up the scent of apples. Perhaps she would gather some to take back later. They would make an excellent birthday present for Ena's wife.

That was all for later, though.

The clan did not come to the Emerald Graves very often, and when they did, they didn't stay long. This was only their third visit in her life. She had maybe a week before they moved back out on their way to the Free Marches. It was barely enough time to view even a fraction of the memories she wanted to see.

Atisha set her basket down and nestled herself at the base of Elnora's tree, where the roots created a nook that was just the right shape. She opened the basket and pulled out her blanket. The thick wool was a little scratchy, but more than enough to keep her warm. The green and brown design was also good enough camouflage to keep most dangers from spotting her.

She laid down and pulled the blanket over her head, covering her completely. Then, she closed her eyes and slipped into the Fade.

As with everywhere else, it was a rocky wasteland. Statues and parts of buildings jutted out of the rock faces and created a surreal architecture. The sky was an ominous swirl of green and black with islands floating just out of reach. Off in the distance, she could make out the silhouetted spires of the Black City.

The scent of apples had followed her here, but now it was flat and dim, a memory of long ago. There was also a thick, wet smell of iron. It was much fresher than the apples.

Atisha barely had a chance to take everything in before she felt hands curl around her arms in the waking world. The fingers dug into her flesh and she was yanked out of her resting place.

She woke up as her arms were pulled behind her. She started to protest, but someone pulled a cloth over her mouth. She could only mumble angrily while they tied her hands and then the gag. Atisha whipped her head from side to side to take in who was attacking her. She found tattooed elven faces.

Faces that she knew.

Atisha growled at the three clan hunters.

One of them tried to grab her legs. He managed to get hold of one, but she pulled the other back just in time.

She tucked it up close to her chest. Then she kicked forward, smashing the hunter's nose.

He screamed and dropped her, reeling away from her and holding his nose. A trickle of blood began to run down face, staining his teeth and chin. "That bitch broke my nose!" he screamed.

Someone cuffed her across the face.

Her vision swam and her ears range from the blow. It took a great deal of concentration to bring everything back into focus.

"Hold her down," Broken Nose ordered.

They threw her to the ground, smashing her head against a tree root. One of them sat behind her and held her shoulders down while the other grabbed her legs.

A knot clenched Atisha's stomach. She knew what was about to happen, but was too dazed to fight back. She screamed, but her anguish was muffled by the gag. She frantically reached out with her mind.

_Please, dear spirits, let there be wolves nearby._

The third hunter was standing over her, straddling her. His eyes glowed with elation and his lips curled up into a wicked grin as he unbuttoned his trousers.

There. An alpha with seven of his hunters. It was not the one she had met on their last visit. He was long dead. But it was one of his descendants.

Atisha sent images of her attackers, of the wolves taking them down.

He understood the message. He sent back an image of the wolves running towards her.

They would be there soon, but would it be soon enough?

The hunter's pants fell to the ground, pooling around his ankles. His smile widened as he stroked his cock.

"You and your sister need to be taught a lesson," he sneered. "You insult the clan by refusing the vallaslin and not taking a new husband. She parades around, pretending to be what she isn't. What's worse, she's kept another woman from a proper man."

Atisha squirmed against the hunters holding her, but that only made her hands dig into her back. She tried to kick her way free, to wrench her shoulders out of the vice grip. But nothing worked. She tried to look into his eyes, but her vision was still blurry from the blow to her head.

"Fight all you want, bitch. I _will_ break you."

A fourth hunter, someone she hadn't noticed, bent down with his knife and cut her shirt open.

She closed her eyes, fighting back tears. Inside she was screaming, setting them on fire, ripping out their throats. Everything that she wanted to do but couldn't.

The tearing fabric drowned out any other noise.

Atisha could feel the cool air tickle her breasts and play across her exposed stomach. She wasn't sure if it was that or the head wound that was making her nauseous.

A gray shape flew through the trees. The knife stopped, the hunter holding it letting out a strangled cry. Broken Nose screamed and disappeared from Atisha's line of sight. The other two hunters were shouting and stumbling away from her.

A cold, wet nose nudged Atisha's cheek.

Atisha turned her head, the motion sending a renewed wave of pain through her skull, and looked up into the yellow eyes of the beta wolf. She sighed with relief and rolled onto her stomach.

The beta didn't need guidance. It began gnawing on the rope and freed her quickly.

Once Atisha's arms were free, she pulled the gag off and sucked in a deep, slow breath to steady herself. Gradually, the world stopped spinning. She slowly rose to her feet and took note of every ache as she moved.

Her head wound still throbbed and she probably had a concussion. Her wrists and cheek stung from the abuses they had suffered. She grabbed the cut edges of the shirt and closed it over her bare chest.

The hunters were all pinned down by wolves.

The alpha snarled at Broken Nose, its teeth bare inches from the hunter's face. It sent images to her mind, the pack tearing the men limb from limb.

Atisha felt a grim sense of satisfaction about the thought, but knew that she couldn't.

The wolf in her wanted it to be done. They had attacked her, a member of their own pack. They needed to be made an example of. It growled inside of her, urging her that it was right.

Atisha growled back. She was the alpha in this relationship. The clan would be left vulnerable if it lost any of the hunters. She hated it, but knew that she had to let them live.

She straightened her back, standing to her full height, and glared down at Broken Nose with far more confidence than she felt. "This is just a small sample of what I am capable of. The next time you move to harm me, they will tear out your throats and feast on your entrails."

She sent an image to the alpha, the wolves holding them until she could make it back to camp.

It huffed in acknowledgment and sent its own image, the beta accompanying her.

Atisha nodded once in consent, then limped away from the grove.

Atisha opened her eyes. She was on the ground, curled into a ball. Her cheeks were wet and her breathing was fast and shallow. Her stomach clenched and she could feel the bile rising in her throat.

She rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up to her knees. The contents of her stomach forced their way out of her mouth. She heaved until there was nothing left, and then continued for a while longer.

When if finally stopped, she sat back and lifted her face to the sun. It amazed her that the memory still had such an effect on her, even after all these years. She took several deep breaths to calm the last of her nerves. Slowly, her mind and body stilled. She sighed looked down at her hands. They had stopped trembling.

Atisha slowly rose to her feet and walked over to the stream. She waded into it, the cool waters whirling past her ankles. She wiggled her toes and dug them into the mud. It was simple, but helped ground her in the present. She took a few more deep breaths, then bent down and washed her face off.

There was a nudge at the edge of her mind. She saw an image, wolves waiting in the treeline, crouched and ready to strike.

Atisha straightened up and looked towards the trees. A pale gray wolf was just visible, and only because she was looking for him. She silently cursed herself. She must have sent out the distress call when she was stuck in the memory. They thought that she was actually in danger and had come to help.

She slowly approached the alpha and knelt before him, holding out her hand to him. He sniffed it, then leaned his head toward her. Atisha placed her hands on the side of his face and leaned her forehead against his. With their minds more intimately connected, Atisha showed him an image of time flowing backwards, season after season, to indicate that it was a distant memory.

The alpha seemed to understand. He sat back on his haunches and placed a paw on her shoulder. The sorrow in his eyes was evident.

Atisha dipped her head to indicate her thanks for his quick response.

He removed his paw and the look in his eyes changed to curiosity. There were images in her mind. The pack had been following her since the aravels had entered their territory.

She showed them images of the mages and templars fighting, the clan being forced to leave their usual territory.

The alpha huffed his disapproval of the fighting. She saw the pack trying to avoid it, as well. Members being attacked if they wandered too near the campsites. She saw men in templar armor beating the wolves, riling them up, then releasing them near the mage camps. Another image showed robed men and women at the edges of a glowing circle, the wolf in the center bombarded with magical energy.

Atisha's heart burned at the sight. It was one thing to attack your enemy, another entirely to abuse creatures that had no part in what was happening. A low, guttural growl escaped her throat. The alpha returned one in agreement. She now turned their conversation toward something more pressing. She showed the alpha an image of the hunters that had been glaring at her in the camp. Then, she showed the wolves following them, keeping an eye on them.

The alpha huffed once. In the next moment, a long howl split the air. His pack answered, their cries filling the sky. The forest rustled as five wolves left in search of the Dalish hunters.

Atisha lowered her head to the alpha in thanks. Now that Atisha had some help, she tried to push her worries out of her mind. She wasn't very successful. She stood and walked to the stream, but the alpha remained in the trees. He and the remaining wolves spread out to keep watch.

There were several cattails and other edible plants. She wasn't sure if she would have time to cook them, however, so decided to stick to the dried vegetables until she knew if the hunters were following her.

She sat down on a rock next to the pond and removed her pack. She pulled out the first vegetables she came across and started munching on them. She wanted to be able to start moving if she needed to.

Atisha had almost finished her small meal when the pack returned. She saw four Dalish hunters, the same ones that had been glaring at her when she left. They followed the same path that she had taken. From what she could see of their surroundings, they were maybe fifteen minutes behind her.

The wolves whined and shifted from one leg to another. The beta licked his lips. The tension in the air was palpable. The wolves didn't understand what the Dalish were saying, and so could not relay that information to her.

Atisha didn't need to know what they were saying, though. It was always some variation on the same theme: capture her and mark her.

She growled in discontent, her eyes glaring in the direction that the hunters would come from. She wanted to face them now so she could get it over with. But time had taught her that it was better to have the clan as witnesses.

It didn't let the hunters make up any stories.

Atisha stood up and grabbed her bag. She took a deep breath and focused her mind, calling on arcane energy. It was always a strange sensation, no matter how many times she did it. First, her skin started to itch. Then she could feel her hair being sucked into her scalp until it was the right length, leaving her with the sensation that something was crawling just beneath her skin. The hair changed from deep black to rust red while matching fur spread across her body. She loved this part the most because it gave her a beautiful, thick coat of red with a white under belly. She could feel something pulling on her face, then her nose and mouth merged and extended to form the muzzle, which was covered in white fur. The crawling sensation was her ears traveling up the side of her head, extending and turning to face the front. Then, her least favorite part. Her lower back exploded in pain as her tail bone lengthened to form an actual tail, tipped in white. She never understood why that was the only part that really hurt. Her nails grew longer and thickened as they curved down. At the same time, her fingers shortened and the skin thickened to form pads. The vast array of colors disappeared. She inhabited a world of grays, but could see and smell more clearly than in her elven body. What she lost in color, she more than made up for with scents.

All of this happened in a fraction of a second, the force of the spell creating a cloud of thick black smoke around her.

Atisha lept from the cloud before it could disperse, her powerful legs carrying her to the treeline in mere seconds. She sauntered up to the alpha and lay in front of him, her head bowed in submission.

The alpha sat tall on his haunches, his eyes roaming over her form. The seconds stretched out and she started to get anxious. But she knew not to rush the alpha. Finally, he stood and approached her. He licked her forehead and eyes, welcoming her to the pack.

Atisha slowly rose to all four and rubbed her cheek against his so that each now had the other's scent on them.

With the formalities out of the way, the alpha turned north and began running. Atisha and the beta fell in behind him, with most of the pack following them. Three remained behind to keep an eye on the hunters. Her connection, strengthened by the alpha accepting her into the pack, allowed her to see and hear everything that the wolves experienced.

Like her own vision, everything was in different shades of gray.

After several minutes, the hunters crept into the clearing, arrows knocked in their bows. They spent a long time there, examining the tracks that she had left.

The lead hunter, a man named Balin, knelt next to the rock she had sat on and ran his fingers across the surface. He held them up to his nose and inhaled deeply. His face wrinkled up in disgust, most likely from the acrid scent left by the spell smoke.

"She was here, and not long ago. This spot is still warm," he finally told the others. He moved to the other side of the rock and squinted at the tracks there. "That explains the smoke. She's taken wolf form."

"There's more wolf tracks, here," another hunter called from the trees. "At least eight or nine, including Era'Atisha."

One of the hunters tightened his grip so much that the wood of his bow creaked. His eyes darted around the clearing and his breathing quickened. He backed towards Balin in a crouch, his head whipping around at the smallest sounds.

"Don't some of the stories say that she controls wolves?" he asked, licking his lips. "M-maybe we should head back. They say that those who see her in wolf form never live to tell the tale."

Balin snorted at the younger man's fear. "Then how are there stories?" he asked, jeering. "Besides, if that were the case, she wouldn't have a brother and she would be our keeper. Netalin said that she teaches shape changing to all of the clan Keepers." His eyes wandered down to the tracks and his brows furrowed. "But some caution wouldn't go amiss."

"It's also getting late, and we still need to hunt," the fourth hunter sighed. "I saw some deer tracks not too far back. If we head out now, we should be able to catch up to it."

"You're just going to give up?" Balin sneered.

"She'll come back, eventually. We can take care of it, then," the other hunter argued. "She's gone this long without vallaslin. A few more days won't hurt anything."

Balin growled and charged across the twenty feet between them. His hand shot up and grabbed the hunter by the throat as he pushed him back against a tree. His eyes looked ready to pop out of his head and he bared his teeth with a vicious snarl.

The hunter's eyes widened and he gasped, trying to suck air into his lungs. He fought against Balin's grip, clawing desperately to remove the hand from his throat. His toes dangled just above the ground.

The other two hunters slowly crept closer to the pair, their eyes flashing from one to the other. Their bowstrings were taut, but not fully drawn. They hesitated with the arrows pointed at the ground, exchanging glances.

"Every second that she is unmarked is an insult!" Spittle flew from his mouth with every syllable. "She has paraded around unmarked for too long, acting like she's better than us. She claims to be Dalish, but sneers at everything that we are, _questions_ everything that we are. She does not show the gods their proper due, and I will not stand for it! Do you understand me?" He pushed harder against the hunter, the muscles in his arm bulging from the strain.

The hunter wheezed and nodded. His eyes rolled back in his head, which flopped to one side.

Balin released the hunter and backed away a few steps. He continued to glare as the hunter collapsed on the ground.

The other two ran to his side and tried to help him. They lifted him up by his arms, but we waved them off. He rested on his hands and knees with his head hanging between his arms. He sucked in deep breaths, coughing the whole time. Finally, he was breathing normally. He kept his head down, though. "You do realize that marking her means that she'll be our next Keeper, don't you?"

Balin's hands balled into fists and his jaw tightened. "That bitch will never be our Keeper. Istimaethoriel would have to name her as First, and I doubt that will ever happen."

The hunter laughed, then winced. Slowly, he rose to his feet, using the tree for support. He looked Balin square in the eyes and snarled at him. "If you think that, then you are a fool. She was old when our great-grandparents were born, she has more magical knowledge than anyone alive. By the void, Era'Atisha _trains_ every one of the Keepers, and has for generations. The lack of vallaslin is the _only_ thing that has kept her from the position. Istimaethoriel would be a fool to hand the reigns over to Netalin with her eligible, and the whole clan knows it." He paused for a moment and looked Balin up and down. "Well, maybe not the _whole_ clan."

Balin did not look so certain, now. His eyebrows knitted together and his tongue darted out nervously to lick his lips. The worry was evident in his eyes. "Perhaps we should speak with Netalin," Balin finally conceded.

"A wise choice," the hunter scowled.

They began moving out the clearing, back towards the camp and away from Atisha. They spoke as they went, but the topic had turned to hunting something other than her.

The wolves continued to follow them to make sure they didn't come back around.

Atisha sighed with relief. She continued to follow the alpha and the others in the pack. Perhaps this time wouldn't be as bad as some of the others.

It would all depend on Netalin, whether he was an instigator or had just been talked into joining the hunters.

She had not paid much attention to the Keeper's apprentice. She tried to remember what she could of Netalin. He was an intelligent boy and a quick study. Istimaethoriel had commented that he would likely need to start lessons with Atisha before too long. It usually took ten years of study under the Keeper before apprentices started learning from her. He was only in his fifth year, if Atisha remembered correctly.

She thought she had seen him staring at her a few times, but he looked away the second he realized she had noticed. Atisha had thought nothing of it, at the time. He wasn't the first apprentice to gawk at her, and he wouldn't be the last.

But that was all she could recall. Other than his intelligence, Netalin was an utterly unremarkable young man.

The alpha yipped, shaking Atisha from her thoughts. They had brought her to the pack's den.

It was at the base of a rock face with enough of an overhang that the whole pack could fit inside when it rained. More rocks were piled around the opening, which hid it from casual view. The trees weren't as thick, though, and gave the pack plenty of space to lounge in the sun.

Atisha focused her mind. With a puff of smoke, the transformation reversed itself. The sensations were much the same: pain as the tail contracted back into her spine, itching as the fur was sucked back under her skin and her hair grew out. Her face squashed back down to normal. The change back to her elven body always left her feeling disoriented. She regained the ability to see colors, but her vision and sense of smell was somewhat dulled.

Several pups ran out to greet them. They nearly knocked Atisha off her feet, they were so excited. A litter of nine cubs pranced around her and took turns jumping on her. When she knelt down, the cubs swarmed her and began licking her face. As far as they were concerned, she was part of the pack and they wanted to welcome her accordingly.

Atisha laughed, a deep laugh like she had not done in the waking world for a very long time, and let them go on for a bit. She reveled in the attention. How long had it been since she felt nothing but love from another creature?

After several minutes, she began to gently push the cubs away from her. Most of them took the hint, but two continued to sniff enthusiastically at her hair and lick her. Finally, she had to let out a low growl to assert dominance. The two cubs backed away, whimpering, then quickly joined the other cubs in a game of chase.

The alpha had watched everything. Once the cubs had moved on, he sauntered across the clearing and sat next to her. He looked into her eyes and they exchanged images. Atisha sleeping with the pack, hunting with the pack, the days going by. She was welcome as long as she contributed.

She bowed in thanks, then sent an image of her hunting with them, but leaving after a short time. Then, she shared her memory of the Fade ruins.

The alpha yipped in a low tone. He had seen them, not far to the north of the den.

Atisha smiled in relief. She had been going close to the right direction, then. That also meant that she was still within her Fade range of the ruins. Her smile widened. She would be able to see Solas tonight. Soon, she might even see him in person.

Her cheeks warmed at the thought.

She shook her head, bringing herself back to the present. She was far too old to be behaving in such a childish manner. Blushing at the mere thought of a man that she barely knew?

She decided to stay with the wolves for the night. It would be nice to run with them.

Atisha sighed as she moved into the den and set down her pack and staff. One of the pups began sniffing at the pack, likely looking for the dried meats. His persistence made her reconsider her choice. She snatched the pack up just before the pup lept at it. The cub landed on its face in the dirt, making Atisha chuckle.

It huffed and shook its head, then got up. It turned to her, cocking its head to one side. She wagged her finger at it with a smile, earning an indignant yap from the cub. It continued to yap as Atisha put the pack on a high shelf, safely out of the cubs' reach. It growled at her, but quickly changed to a whimper. It stared at the pack for several more seconds, whimpering the whole time, before sighing and sauntering out of the den.

Atisha chuckled and shook her head. Then, she stripped out of the armor and chemise. She laid them on another high rock, with the chemise on top of the armor. Once completely naked, she crouched down and began the change.

She did not use the spell this time, instead letting the wolf spirit shape her body. The transformation was slower, but felt much the same as with the spell. This way, however, the wolf could more easily take control of her body.

Once the transformation was complete, she began stretching. Changing this way always left her muscles sore.

When she sauntered out of the den, the rest of the pack was waiting for her. The alpha watched her for a moment, then turned and bound into the woods. The hunters followed close behind, and Atisha gladly joined them, letting the wolf take control.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The Fade ruins looked much like they had the night before. The stucco murals were still crumbling and incomplete, the color slowly leeching out of them, and vines crawled up the pillars.

Moonlight glinted off of stagnant water in a broken fountain that she hadn't noticed earlier. It was small, a half-circle protruding from the wall with a faceless, winged Mythal statue. Vines had overgrown most of it and the paint and worn off ages ago, leaving only shimmering white marble. The right wing had broken off and toppled into the fountain, cracking the base.

Now that she was really looking at it, Atisha recognized the courtyard. It had been a summer home for Mythal: close to Arlathan, but not so close that it had been pulled in with whatever had happened to the city.

There was a stirring in the back of her mind. Memories surfaced and restored the ruin to its original grandeur. The lip of the fountain was inlaid with gold and marble, creating twining dragons. Bright emeralds set into yellow tiles lined the bottom, reflecting the moonlight. The statue was painted in vivid colors; maroon and silver for the gown and silver for the crown on Mythal's brow. Small, brightly colored fish swam through the pristine waters. The lawn in front of the fountain was carefully manicured, the morning glories kept in check to create a verdant green frame for the statue.

Two people sat on the edge, but their features were blurred. One was a woman, thick black hair contained in a bun at the base of her neck. Her skin was deep brown, almost black, and she had a muscular build, but that was all that Atisha could tell. The man was just as indistinct: brown locks cascading down his back and skin that was as pale as the moon. Even their clothing was hard to describe.

They leaned their heads against each other as they whispered.

"Tel'enfanim, vhenan," the man said. His voice was distorted. The pitch and accent changed with each syllable. One moment it was a deep bass, the next a nasally whine, and then a melodious whisper. "Elgar'nan lan na revas."

The woman shook her head. Atisha closed her eyes and could feel the tears sliding down her cheeks as she began to relive that moment. She could feel the warmth of the man as his hand wiped the tears from her face. His hands were not smooth, but not overly rough, either. His fingers slid across her lips and she could taste the salt on them.

"Ar daran Dirth'ena enasalin, Fen'elvhen. Ar dalan sule Erlgar'nan din'an." She was sobbing by the end of the sentence. Her entire body shook and she felt faint. She fell forward, the man catching her in his arms and holding her close.

Atisha pulled herself away from the memory. One that wasn't hers, but also was. The wolf was not the only spirit that she shared her body with. There was also an ancient elf, Fen'U.

What few personal memories remained were fuzzy at best. Fen'U seemed amazed that she could remember the conversation at all. Before there had only been vague recollections of her crying into a lover's arms. Now that she was here, where it had happened, more had come back to her. Atisha could feel the anticipation in the ancient elf, something that never happened in ruins. But this place was familiar. If the conversation was any indication, the spirit was certain that she would remember more.

Atisha took a deep breath, her body still shaking from the anguish of the memory. Looking at her reflection, she could see the stains from her tears. She willed the stagnant water clean. The gunk and dirt disappeared from the fountain, leaving it pure and pristine. She dipped her hands in and cupped them, splashing the water on her face to wash away any evidence of crying. Once that was done, she willed herself dry. The droplets evaporated, disappearing into the air. It would not do to meet Solas in such a state, especially after their parting conversation the night before. She took several more deep breathes and slowly the muscles relaxed.

Part of her wanted to tell him how much she hated the clan, how she wanted to run away and never see them again. The pack let her escape from the daily grind; they had helped keep her sane all these years. But they did not understand her issues with the clan. She had tried speaking to Alpha about it, once. It had tried to help, but confessed that Dalish customs made little sense to it. The only advice it could offer was to stay true to herself and her beliefs, no matter what anyone else said.

Atisha had taken that advice to heart. It was why she still refused the vallaslin. It would have been so much easier to accept the markings, but Fen'U had sworn that she would never bear the brand of an Evanuris again. The ancient elf had endured too much pain and abuse. She couldn't even watch as others were marked. Her stomach would knot up and she could feel the bile rising at the back of her throat.

She closed her eyes and the screams of Fen'U's victims, the people she had been forced to kill while under the command of Elgar'nan, echoed through her head. Buildings burned around her and hot, sticky blood covered her hands. She looked up, her sword piercing the chest of a young child.

Atisha gasped and opened her eyes.

Though vague, the memories were powerful. She shoved them back and took several more deep breathes, but another image took its place. She stood atop a narrow plateau, her gold armor glinting in the sun. Across from her was a warrior in black. Though she could not see his face, she knew who it was. Beldoran, who had been like a brother when she was a child. They each raised their swords and rushed towards each other.

Elgar'nan's warning whispered in her mind.

"Loose and you will not be the only one to die."

A serving girl was brought out, whimpering as she was brought before her master. Fen'U knew the young woman intimately well. Elgar'nan cupped her chin in his hand, sneering at her simpering. His other hand produced a knife from beneath his robes. He pushed the tip into her neck just enough to draw blood. The woman cried out.

Fen'U screamed as their swords clashed. The battle lasted so long, but neither showed sign of fatigue. Each blow was countered, each slash deflected. On they fought, the years stretching before them. Then, an opening. Her sword lashed out, leaving a red trail across his neck.

Beldoran slumped, but Fen'U caught him and lowered him to the ground. She lay him back and removed his helmet. His eyes stared into the sky, empty orbs that would never smile again. Fen'U hugged him close, slowly rocking as the tears ran down her cheeks. She screamed to the heavens, but no one seemed to care.

Fen'U returned to Elgar'nan's hall victorious but empty. She could not smile at the revelers around her, only scowl when they jostled her. There was only one face that she wanted to see. She pushed her way through the crowd, searching.

There. There she was. She had never looked so beautiful.

But she was not happy to see Fen'U. Her face paled at the sight of her lover and she shook her head. Her eyes were wide and shined with fear. Her hand flew up to the small mark on her neck. She backed away several steps before turning and disappearing into the crowd. She avoided Fen'U from that day on.

Something inside Fen'U finally broke. She had thought they would always be together, would always have each other. But the look on her face... Fen'U swore to never love again.

Tears slid down Atisha's cheeks. She sniffled and wiped them away, but more pooled at the corner of her eyes. A mother pleading for mercy, a fallen warrior clutching a purple ribbon, a new warrior cowering from her shouts. More memories clamored for attention, but she forced them back. She cleared her mind once more and took several more deep breathes. Her nerves slowly settled. She took one last look at her reflection to make sure there were no signs of distress.

Then, she cast her senses out, looking for Solas. She searched room by room, sometimes lingering where spirits played out memories. And there were many places in the old palace. She could spend months here and still not see everything that had happened.

There he was, in a small side chamber off of the ballroom. It was quiet, no spirits danced or reveled in this room. Curious, Atisha made her way through the ruin to the antichamber. She passed several memories, mostly happy ones. This place was full of merry singing and gleeful dancing, especially in the ballroom. As much as Atisha wanted to watch, it seemed her host had other plans for the night. She picked her way past the spinning couples to a small door just behind the throne. When she stepped inside, Solas was standing in the center of the chamber.

It looked like a waiting area. There were two luxurious blue couches and a matching arm chair behind Solas. They were circled around a dark wood coffee table that had a silver tray with two glass goblets and a matching pitcher. The wall was a dark hardwood and held scenic paintings in brilliant colors.

But Atisha's attention was on Solas. Her heart fluttered and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. She couldn't help cracking a wide grin at the sight of him. A small smile spread across his own lips, making her heart leap into her throat.

"I began to fear that you were not coming," he sighed with relief.

"I was repaying a favor. I'm afraid that I lost track of time. But you will have my full attention now."

His smile widened. "The full attention of a beautiful woman? You tease." He paused for a moment, looking over her. "I thought that we could learn more about each other tonight. You seemed hesitant to speak of yourself last night, so I thought that I would tell you a bit about myself. Ask me whatever you would like."

He turned to the furniture and held out his hand to her. She slipped her hand into his and let him lead her to the couch. Once she was seated, he went around the table and rested on the other couch. He picked up the pitcher and poured a bright red liquid into both cups. Then he picked up his and sat back, taking a small sip.

Atisha picked up her cup and took a sip. It was deliciously fruity, with hints of strawberry and other flavors that she didn't recognize. Fen'U sighed as memories rose in the back of her mind: pleasant evenings in deep conversation with Fen'Harel, a pitcher of strawberry wine between them. Atisha smiled at the memories. Perhaps she had found her own Fen'Harel.

She pondered what to ask first. There were so many questions: where was he from, was he traveling alone, did he converse with spirits. Some were not appropriate for new acquaintances, like if he had any intimate partners. Atisha blushed at the thought. She definitely didn't know him well enough to ask that, yet. There was one question that burned brighter than the others, one that she had asked herself when she first realized what was happening.

"How are you able to view memories? I've been in several dreams, and the dreamers could only ever view their own memories."

Solas chuckled. "An interesting first question." He was silent for a moment, his eyes gleaming as though she were a puzzle to be solved.

"It is an obscure subject, not so flashy as throwing fireballs. When I was a young man, I lived in a small village with little to interest someone gifted in magic. But as I slept, spirits showed me the wonders of the Fade. I taught myself to dream with full consciousness and control. It was not long before I had explored all of the Fade around the village."

So it didn't come naturally to him, and he did still need the dream. But if he had learned to control his dreams, had he learned more? Was it even possible for a dreamer to leave their dream?

"Have you ever been able to enter the raw Fade?"

A frown crossed his face and his brows knit together. "No. I have heard of mages capable of such a thing without Lyrium, but they have not been seen since the fall of Arlathan."

His gaze was more calculating now. He sat up ever so slightly and his jaw seemed to tense. Atisha suspected that he knew more than he was telling, but also sensed that the line of questioning would lead him to answers she didn't want him to know. Not yet. She had to steer him away from it. Last night they had seen a memory from the ancient times, something one doesn't just stumble across. Did he know to look for it?

"Have you seen many memories of the ancient elves?"

Solas was slow to answer. He was still looking at her with a furrowed brow, his eyes narrowed as though searching for something. For a moment, she thought that he wasn't going to answer at all. He shook his head and relaxed back against the couch. "Forgive me. I was lost in thought. Ancient memories, you wonder? I have seen some, in the deepest parts of the Fade. But intact ones, like what we saw last night, are very hard to come by. It was a rare treat. I would not trade the thrill of finding a thousand year old memory for anything." His face brightened into a smile as he spoke.

Atisha smiled at the notion. She had seen only a handful in her lifetime, but they were her most valued treasures. "I feel the same. What are some of the other places you've dreamed at?"

"I enjoy battlefields the most. I once dreamt at Ostagar and watched as the Wardens Alistair and Theron lit the signal fire."

Atisha gasped and nearly sprung out of her seat. "I've been begging our Keeper to take the clan that direction. What was it like?"

Solas seemed surprised at first, leaning further into the seat with wide eyes. He stayed that way, mouth slightly agape, for several moments.

Atisha's cheeks warmed at her sudden outburst and she eased back into her seat. She couldn't help it. It was one of the most poignant moments in recent memory. Not two weeks before she had come across survivors of the battle who still had nightmares strong enough to pull her in. Their memories had only wet her appetite.

Solas had relaxed while she contemplated and his eyes had returned to their normal size. "One moment, I saw a weary veteran commander whose forces were about to be overrun. The next, I saw a sneering villain turning his back on his king."

Loghain. The tale of his betrayal was infamous even among the Dalish.

Atisha sighed and tried to imagine it. Battlefields were some of her favorite spots. The veil was thin from all of the spirits pressing against it and it was so easy to slip through. The spirits were more than willing to share the memories of those places with her. The Fade was thick with roiling emotions and turmoil. So much of history was affected by some of the battles she had witnessed while others were lost to living memory.

"Not many women swoon at the thought of watching a battle," he chuckled. "My curiosity is piqued, Atisha. Would you indulge answering some questions about yourself?"

Atisha was slow to answer. She had let her guard slip, and that had proven dangerous in the past. She would have to be extra careful with him. He had a way of making her feel comfortable.

"It is only fair," she finally answered with a nod of her head.

"What made you want to study the Fade?"

A fair question. As he had pointed out before, it wasn't a common area of study. "I've always had a special connection to it. The Dalish could only teach me so much, and I wanted to know more. The first time I stumbled across a ruin... It was incredible. Once brothers in arms, they now crossed swords, a kingdom in the balance. King slayer one, darkness he brought, madness his adviser. The other born of no woman, destined to lay low the usurper, made a forest walk."

A sigh escaped her lips as she recalled it. She stared off into the distance and a soft smile played across her lips. It had been the first memory she ever viewed. She had been terrified, at first, huddling under a bush as disguised soldiers marched past. Alpha had been there and reassured her that it was safe. It had said that the spirits would ignore her if she became part of the background. After that, her eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat. The tree clad soldiers were at the enemy gates, surrounding the castle. The battle that ensued had been magnificent. It was several moments before she shook herself out of her reverie.

When she looked at Solas, his brow was furrowed and his eyes narrowed again. Something she said had given him another piece of the puzzle. Too many more and he would know what she was.

Atisha cleared her throat. "Anyway, I learned more in one night than the Keeper had taught me in months. I tried sharing what I had learned with him, but he said it was nonsense. 'You can't trust spirits,' he said. He wouldn't approve of my friends."

She scowled at the memory. It had led to yelling between the two. She had called him a blind fool, stubborn. He swore that she would never lead the clan. Her hands balled up into fists and her jaw clenched. He had been right about that, at least.

Solas placed his hand on hers and squeezed her fingers. She stared at their hands, not sure what to do. Solas seemed to sense her uncertainty and withdrew his hand.

There was a stretch of silence. Atisha realized she was still holding the goblet of wine. She took another sip and set it on the table.

Solas continued to watch her, his brow in that now familiar furrow. She was certain that he had her figured out by now. She had given him all of the clues that he needed.

"Tell me about your family," he finally ventured.

"I only have my brother." And a few dozen great-grand nephews and nieces. Their two older siblings had more than made up for the fact that neither of the twins had children.

Solas' brow relaxed and he set his goblet on the table. He leaned forward and rest his elbows on his knees. "Tell me about him. Does he have the same abilities as you?"

"No. He's a hunter, the best in the clan. He doesn't care much for the Fade. I tried showing him memories once, when we were kids. He freaked out. I don't think he slept for a week afterward."

She laughed as she remembered the look of horror on his face. She had chosen their parents' wedding; a happy, simple memory. He had run screaming in the other direction and Atisha had been forced to chase after him. She had found him curled up in an aravel, rocking back and forth. She tried coaxing him out, but he only shook his head, even after she had banished the memory from his dream. After several attempts to calm him down, she had been forced to slap him awake. She had done her best to avoid his dreams after that.

"What about you? Do you have any family?"

His eyes softened and the corners of his mouth fell. Light glinted off of tears at the corners of his eyes. He turned his head away from her, wiping the moisture away. "No, no family."

His voice was heavy and she could hear the lump in his throat that nearly choked off his words. She got the feeling that he had, at one time, but had lost them to something terrible. She hated seeing others in pain, so tried to steer the conversation towards something else.

"What else have you seen in the Fade?"

He did not look back, not right away. He was staring at one of the paintings, a vast temple highlighted against the horizon. When he finally turned back, he did so slowly, but the grimace had been replaced with a soft smile. A fire entered his eyes as he told her tales of memories in Orlais, Rivain, and even Seheron. He was monopolizing the conversation, but she didn't care.

Atisha could listen to that silky voice for hours.

And she did. Before she realized it, her body was tugging, ready to wake up. A frown creased her face. She had always disliked mornings. Now, the idea of waking up was more than a little frustrating. She waited until he finished his story about a dwarf leaving the safety of Orzammar for the uncertainty of the surface before speaking up.

"I fear that morning approaches."

Solas seemed surprised. "So soon? I didn't think we had been speaking that long."

She smiled at him. "Time flows differently in the Fade, especially when listening to such wonderful stories. Perhaps tomorrow, I can share what I have seen?"

Solas nodded in approval. "I look forward to it. Have a lovely day, Atisha."

She wanted to stay, so much. It only made it harder to wake up; but she had to. She stood and backed away from him, taking in every detail as the dream faded. With any luck, she would see him in person before the sun set.

When she woke, Atisha took stock of her surroundings. If what the alpha of this pack had told her was true, she would reach the ruins by midday tomorrow by foot; however, she traveled much faster in wolf form. If she set out early enough, she could reach the ruins before dusk today.

She scarfed down some dried meat and vegetables for breakfast before the pups could steal some from her. With her belly satisfied, she grabbed her pack and staff and used the spell to change to wolf form. It allowed her to change her belongings with her and made for easier transport.

She thanked the alpha for welcoming her to the pack and letting her stay for the night. Then she sent an image of herself wandering through the ruins.

The alpha huffed once and sent an image of a wall crumbling and blocking off the passage, one of his pack trapped behind the rubble.

Atisha whined softly to show her sorrow for his loss, but did not back down on going. She promised to be careful.

The alpha growled—a sign that she would never be careful enough—but did not try to stop her as she left the den clearing. Some of the wolves did follow her, however.

She smiled to herself. She didn't mind the company and it would make watching out for her clansmen much easier.

Atisha kept a steady pace the whole day, stopping only long enough to catch a quick lunch. She didn't bother changing back, as it would mean dipping into her rations again. Instead, she and the mini pack hunted down a deer and shared the spoils.

Once the meal was done, her travel companions bid her farewell and headed back to the den and Atisha continued alone.

There wasn't much of interest out here, just dense woods, steep hills, and a few sudden cliffs. Roots and rocks jutted out of the ground. Tripping on one of them could easily lead to a twisted ankle. She picked her way carefully around the hazards, but opted for safety and slowed when she came to them. She also took note of her path so that she could find her way back to the clan.

Then, as the sun was beginning to disappear behind the forest, the first pillar rose up amongst the trees. Atisha stopped and resumed elven form so she could look at it more closely. It was a testament to Elvhen craftsmanship because the ancient writing was still clearly visible. It was a marker of the edge of the estate. The main building was about another half hour away.

Sighing, she resumed wolf shape and continued on her way. There was barely any light left when she finally came to the main body of the ruins. She changed back to her elven body so she could take it all in.

It looked just as it did in the Fade, crumbling with the once vibrant colors leached away to gray. The forest was slowly reclaiming it. Creepers had made their way up many of the walls, finding the cracks and widening them. Grass grew between stones in the walkways and heavy rains had washed away some sections of stonework completely. The plants had gone wild long ago and there were statues piles of rubble in some spots. Crumpled towers marked where the vast gate had once stood. Now it was a twisted hunk of tarnished metal that hung off of its hinges.

Atisha walked past it, Fen'U's memories filling in the gaps of how it should have looked. The walkway used to be lined with carefully shaped topiary and intricate statues. The gate had been gold-plated bars with Mythal's insignia worked into the center. The palace was sprawling. The white walls and gold-colored roofs would glimmer in the sunlight.

Now the building seemed to be mostly intact, but the alpha's memory of crumbling hallways stuck with her. She could see where elements held aloft by magic had collapsed. That certainly explained why the ballroom was open to the elements.

Something was off, though.

She could feel the spirits that roamed here, pressing against the already thin Veil. There were small rips where they could easily pass between Fade and waking world. A few wisps pranced out of a rift just in front of the door, excitement coming off of them in waves.

It only confirmed what she had realized; no one else was here. No one else had been here for ages.

So how was Solas able to be here in the Fade?

Notes:

For the elvish, I used a combination of the Dragon Age Wiki page on it, and Katie's Best Guess at Elvhen on AO3.

Tel'enfanim, vhenan: Don't fear, my heart.

Elgar'nan lan na revas: Elgar'nan will allow your freedom.

Ar daran Dirth'ena enasalin, Fen'elvhen: I am an Arcane Warrior and Fen'elvhen.

Ar dalan sule Elgar'nan din'an: I will (be forced to) slay/kill/destroy until Elgar'nan is dead.


End file.
